


Schism of the Mind

by Scrawlix



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-05 16:18:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4186536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrawlix/pseuds/Scrawlix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain America is horribly wounded by the Winter Soldier. The wound causes a schism, a fracture, in Steve's personality. One side of the man still loves his childhood friend but the other is a cold killing machine who would rather see him dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Stucky fic. A lot of the fics that I read tend to fall back on the idea that Steve has to nurture and love Bucky in order to bring back his human side. It's beautiful and I love reading them. I just really wanted a story that turns Steve into a raging asshole and flips the common Stucky trope on its head. 
> 
> Also- I'm blatantly ignoring AoU. 
> 
> This is told from the Winter Soldier's POV.

  
_There's just so much God damned weight on my shoulders_  
All I'm trying to do is live my motherfucking life  
Supposed to be happy, but I'm only getting colder  
Wear a smile on my face, but there's a demon inside  
Jekyll and Hyde  
by Five Finger Death Punch

He knew this base. He had been here before. He had been tortured here before. He had tortured someone here before. It was all a blur of pain, guilt and anger but there was always those vivid splashes of color- a face that was briefly illuminated only to disappear into the background of the horror show that was his life. That face that he had seen a thousand times before had created a Pavlovian response, causing him to clench his jaw and hiss in pain as the missing joints of his lost arm flared up. He brought the metal hand up and made a tight fist, then flexed his fingers, then balled them up again. He did this quietly, meditatively as he rode the phantom pain that still plagued him after all this time.

A voice caught his attention and he looked up to see a tall blond man strolling towards him. He blinked, wondering if he was seeing a ghost. Wasn't this person supposed to be dead? And then he remembered meeting him a few times before, the ensuing fight that had left them both staggering from the pain and the exhaustion. He felt alarmed at his confusion and fear of the voice in his head that wailed at the sight of this person. 

Curling his lip, he didn't even bother to lift the Kalashnikov to his shoulder and chose to fire from the hip. It wasn't accurate, the arc of fire went wide and the bullets ricocheted off the wall never hitting the intended target.

"You." The Winter Soldier dropped the weapon and reached for the knife strapped to his forearm. He pulled it from its sheath and let his body slide into a defensive position. His mind worked hard to grasp what the other was saying but the wailing in his head made it almost impossible. His lip pulled back, baring straight white teeth in a feral snarl that caused the blond to falter before falling silent. Perhaps if he killed the man, the voice would be quiet. It was always there, mumbling in the background of his consciousness but lately it was getting to be a bit unruly. After defecting from Hydra, no longer willing to be subjected to their cruel science, he had begun to wonder if that had been a prudent choice. When he was in their 'care' he wasn't conflicted. Physical pain was nothing compared to the confusing whirlwind of emotion that wracked him, doubling him over and leaving him exhausted. 

He charged silently, the knife coming up and swinging in an arc, skittering over the surface of the blond's shield. His metal hand grasped the rim of the shield, shoving it away and baring flesh to his blade. His weapon made contact, slicing through the material of his suit and deeply into his muscled chest. With the flick of his wrist, the knife changed directions and ghosted across the smooth column of his throat. He found himself pinned against a wall with the shield crushed against his chest and his knife hand being held over his head. The blond's strength and speed was impressive but it didn't stop the Winter Soldier from ramming his forehead into his tanned cheekbone. He felt it give under the force of the blow, felt the pressure of the shield give way as his assailant dropped to one knee to clutch his smashed face. He grabbed a fistful of hair and kneed him in the face, letting go immediately so the taller man could crumple to the ground. 

Straddling his chest, the Winter Soldier brought the knife up to strike but the voice in his head was screaming frantically. "I have to do it." He growled, unaware that he was speaking aloud. The knife glinted as it dropped, the tip pierced his skull and slammed into the blond's brain. 

The impact of a bullet to his flesh shoulder caused him to buckle. He grunted and rolled to the side, crouching as he brought up the beretta and fired at the red headed woman that was charging towards him. She was screaming at him in Russian. The voice in his head was howling like a mad dog, making it hard for him to concentrate. She fired again, catching him in the side of the chest where there was a gap between the armored plates of his tactical vest He fell back on his rear, clutching his side and braced himself as she flew at him, her boot catching him in the face. She kicked him again and he felt his consciousness ebb. He lay on his side, feeling the blood pour from the ragged holes in his body. She was leaned over the blond's prone body, her voice ragged with emotion as she spoke. 

The Winter Soldier wondered idly why the infamous Black Widow hadn't killed him. The voice in his head didn't stop screaming. He felt his eyes slide shut and his body relax but the last thing he heard was a ragged moan tear from his own lips and a single word uttered, "Steve…"

\--

He woke up immediately, his senses snapping into overdrive. Sitting up, he felt the weight on his side and clutched at his metal arm only to find a useless stump where his forearm used to be. That didn't scare him. He figured that if anything were to go once he found himself in the custody of SHIELD it would be his best weapon. He had been changed from his tactical gear to a white paper jumpsuit and a pair of canvas slippers. His hair had been shorn close to his scalp. That irked him. It wasn't the arm or the fact that he no longer had any weapons to easily defend himself with. It was his hair. He frowned and tried to figure out why he felt uneasy about having his head shaved. 

"Hey gramps." Tony Stark's voice sounded over an intercom. He glanced up, and took in his surroundings. He was laying on a foam pallet in the corner of a room. The room consisted of three cement walls and a wall of heavy, reinforced glass. There was a toilet and a sink. Nothing else. Tony was standing on the other side of the glass in his iron suit, the visor flipped up. 

Cocking his head, he spoke, "Why did you let me live?"

"Because Steve Rogers wouldn't like it if we handed you over to SHIELD to be interrogated and put down like the dog you deserve."  
"Steve Rogers." The voice in his head wailed as the Winter Soldier spoke calmly, his body quivered at the onslaught of grief that wracked him. He grounded the heel of his palm into an eye, trying to force down the feelings. "The man I killed?"

"You didn't kill him. A knife to the head wouldn't kill our boy. But it has been touch and go for a while." Tony shifted on his feet, the suit whirring as it adjusted to the movement. "Until he is awake enough to deal with you himself, this is your home. Don't try to get out. Don't give us an excuse to maim you."

"Because you haven't already?" the Winter Soldier lifted the metal stump at his side.

"That was a safety precaution. Be happy I didn't take the other one." Tony stalked towards the door and paused, "I would have killed you if I knew it would give Steve just an iota of peace. He feels like he owes the old you, Bucky Barnes, but we both know that he's dead isn't he?"

The Winter Soldier scanned Tony's profile, dispassionately noting the hatred that contorted his face. He didn't bother to answer and Tony didn't wait for it. The lights dimmed as the other man walked from the room. Multiple doors snapped shut and the sound of footsteps diminished. The Winter Soldier was alone. He lay on his back on the bed, willing his body to relax and to sleep take hold. He refused to acknowledge the tears of horror and relief that slipped from beneath his closed eyelids and down his face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky has been blacking out. There's a brief glimpse into Steve's and Bucky's past.

He had been in captivity like this before. A sort of sensory deprivation. Once, perhaps in the 50's, he thought, the chair that they used to wipe him had broken down and the engineer that usually fixed it was unable to get there in time to fix it. He had consoled himself with routine and he had counted the days by the meals he ate. That time it had taken three weeks for him to be wiped and put into storage. By the time his treatment had arrived, the Winter Soldier was grateful for the break from the voice that cried in his head. Despite the weapons that were leveled on him, he had gone to the chair compliantly. 

This time, it was different. By the time he had been captured by the Avengers, he hadn't had a treatment in four months and it was beginning to take its toll. He was losing touch with the side of himself where the voice wouldn't go, the place where the Winter Soldier lived. He was beginning to feel things that he hadn't felt in seventy years and it was excruciating. It was like flexing a muscle that hadn't been used in a long time and the pain of it was shocking. 

He lost track of time. He would be eating breakfast and then the next time he was aware, there was an untouched breakfast tray of congealed eggs and cold toast on the floor by his foot. The itchy scruff on his chin would be there one day and the next, it was gone. The first time he woke up after having his face shaved, he had panicked to the point where a voice with an English accent warned him about his vitals and then- nothing. Was he being sedated? A gas leaked through the vents? Was it in his food? His water? 

One minute he was sitting on his bed and the next he was pressing a palm against the glass wall while Tony stood on the other side, speaking. The billionaire stopped in mid sentence and the frown on his face growing deeper. "Where did you go just then?"

The Winter Soldier glanced back at his bed and then at Tony, "I was sitting on my bed and then…"

"How many times have you blacked out?"

"That I know of? Seven times." He dropped his hand from the glass, backed up until his back hit the wall and then crouched down. 

"It must be your brain recovering from whatever it was that Hydra did to you." Tony tapped his chin. "I'm going to have to take some scans."

The corners of his lips curled up and he smiled at Tony from his position, "Come and get me."

Tony snorted and rolled his eyes, "Right." He lifted the tablet he was holding, his fingers skittered across the surface as he relayed a silent order. The Winter Soldier heard the hissing sound of gas being released from the vent above him. He closed his eyes and let his forehead drop to his arm. The smell of the stuff was sweet and acrid. It clung to the back of his throat and coated his tongue. His body began to feel heavy. His eyelids dropped and he went limp, rolling onto his side with his back against the wall. 

When he woke up, he was strapped to a gurney. This was familiar. The white walls and ceiling, the smell of antiseptic. There was the steady beep of a heart rate monitor. The drip of an IV as it fed fluids into his arm. He tested the restraints, pulling until the leather bit into his wrists. 

"Don't bother." A voice said. There were footsteps and the speaker came into view. A tall man with salt and pepper hair wearing a white lab coat over black slacks and a white collared button down. "Those restraints were meant for Asgardian gods. If they can't break them, you certainly won't be able to."

"Who are you?"

"I'm Doctor Banner."

The Winter Soldier nodded, recalling the extensive dossier that Hydra had on the man. He settled back down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, mentally preparing himself for whatever it was that they had planned for him. Would they wipe him like Hydra? Use him up and discard him? Would they tear him apart- dissect him? Try to bring back Bucky with needles and electricity like Hydra had tried to erase him?

A warm hand pressed on his bicep. He looked up in surprise to find Bruce staring down at him with a look of pity on his face. "Calm down, Barnes. We aren't going to hurt you."

The heart monitor was beeping quicker. He was whimpering and squirming against the restraints. His breaths were coming in fast and shallow. "Please, please don't let them do it." He sobbed, "Don't let them do it."

"Do what? What do you think we're doing?"

"Don't put me away. Don't put me down." The words fell unbidden from his lips.

"We are just doing a scan. It's nothing more. We aren't going to hurt you, Mr Barnes." Bruce reassured, squeezing his arm slightly. 

He sucked in a breath but it felt like a tight band was cinching his chest. His sight greyed and he gagged, trying to scramble backwards but the restraints kept him from moving which only caused him to panic more. "I don't want to sleep!" He screamed.

He was floating above his body, watching as he fought uselessly against the straps that held him down. He watched Bruce back up as another doctor pushed forward with a syringe that she emptied into the IV line. His movements became sluggish as the drugs ran through his system. "Please, I don't want to sleep." Bucky mumbled, his struggles lessening as he succumbed to the drugs.

o0o

He found Steve sitting in his room with a sketchbook on his lap. He paused at the door and watched his best friend, who wasn't sketching but staring out the window with a blank look on his face. He looked tired and a bit ragged around the edges. Bucky wondered if Steve had stopped eating again. Sometimes, this happened when the blond gave away his money and food to those he thought weren't doing as well as he was. 

Bucky had brought apples, cake and ham sandwiches as well as a thermos full of hot coffee and had every intention of feeding all of it to Steve. He wrapped his knuckles on the door frame and grinned when Steve turned to look who it was. "Hey punk."

"Hey jerk." Steve scooped up the pencils that were scattered across the surface of the bed, giving Bucky a place to sit. 

"What's rattlin' in that noggin' of yours?" Bucky asked as he settled on the bed, leaning against the wall and placing the bag of food on his lap.

"Not much. Just thinking about Mrs Brannon from down the street. Got a black eye again."

Bucky sighed, "You ain't thinkin' of trying to go after her husband again, are you?"

"The guy can't get away with beating up women, Buck. It isn't right."

"No, it isn't but there ain't much a scrap a meat like you can do. Mr Brannon is too big and too stupid to face head on." He offered his friend an apple and took a bite of his own. "Especially when you look like you haven't eaten in a few days."

"I've eaten." Steve sounded defensive and shot his best friend a dark look before taking big bite of his apple. "Damn, where'd you get these, Buck?"

"A friend." He had bought them with money he had earned smuggling booze from the Canadian border to a small warehouse near the docks. It was easy work. He was good at it but he wasn't about to admit that to Steve. It would just cause his friend to work himself up and that led to coughing fits and lectures on morality- neither were fun to witness. Instead, he offered his friend a lopsided grin and passed him a sandwich wrapped in wax paper. "Got some coffee and a bit of cake."

Steve nodded but was far too busy devouring the fruit to really worry about its origin. "So, I saw Penny again." Buck offered, pouring some of the coffee into a tin cup for Steve. 

"Oh?" Penny was one of the daughters of the Canadian moonshiners that he collected from. She was gorgeous. Big brown eyes and red hair, freckles on her cute round nose. She had a body that just begged for a hand to run along her lush curves beneath the grungy gingham dress she wore. She had been flirting with Bucky who was cagey about her father who lurked like an angry storm cloud. He hadn't worked up the nerve to kiss her yet but he was hoping that the situation would present itself soon. 

"I ain't never kissed a girl before." Bucky plucked his cap off and scratched his scalp. He hoped he wasn't getting lice again. 

"Well, as far as I know, you just press your lips to hers and that's that." Steve said between nibbling at the core of his apple.

"It can't be that simple. I seen it done a few times and it was never just putting lips together. There was something done with the tongue…"

"That sounds gross."

"Well it can't be that bad if people keep wanting to do it." Bucky inspected his grubby fingernails before gnawing on a piece of ragged nail. "I think Penny might've kissed a few guys before."

"How do you know?"

"Dunno. She knows what she wants, that's for sure." Last time she had cornered him outside of the barn, pinned him there and kissed his neck as her hands danced across his chest. It had made him feel so good but before he could return the favour, her father had called her name and she walked into the barn as if nothing had happened. He was left gasping, trying to regain the use of his rubbery legs and trying to figure out what the hell she had just done to him to leave him reeling.

"She sounds like a pretty forward woman."

"I like it." And he had. He had liked the thought of her hands over him, her hot mouth on his neck. 

"Well, she's gonna be disappointed when she finds out that you are green."

Bucky shot his friend a withering look and finished his apple before speaking. "I should find someone to practice on."

"Good idea, Buck. Just before you find that lucky dame, make sure you don't have lice." Steve grabbed a fistful of Bucky's hair and yanked so that his head was tilted closer for inspection. "Because it looks like you got bugs again."

"Dammit." Bucky scratched furiously, "I knew that good for nothin' had em. I told him to keep away from me."

"Come on, let's go get some kerosene and get you sorted out before I get infested too."

After letting Steve pour kerosene over his head in the communal bathroom, Bucky was no longer in much of a mood to talk. His scalp burned and the stink of the fuel gave him a headache. He sat in the bathtub, leaning against Steve's legs as his friend gently massaged soap into his hair to get rid of the stink. 

"So you wanna find someone to practice kissing on?" Steve seemed to muse aloud, his long fingers tangling in Bucky's soap slick locks. "I don't think you are gonna find a willing participant- even if you are bug free."

"Why not? I got all my teeth and I don't stink." He didn't really care for drink or for chew unlike kids his age, many of which were already starting to lose their teeth from the poorly brewed moonshine that ate at their guts and what teeth they had that hadn't already been knocked out of their heads from fights. 

"Oh well, if you put it like that you will have 'em lining up for miles."

"The dames love me."

"Right." Steve snorted before shoving Bucky's head down into the water. He came up with a shout, floundering and spitting as soapy water filled his mouth. 

"Dammit it, Steve!" He barked, wiping at his eyes.

Steve had already made it out of the bathroom and was down the hall before Bucky could get out of the tub. He wrapped himself in a threadbare, grungy towel and prowled down the hallway in search of his friend. "I feed you and expect a little bit of time to wag tongues with my best pal and he treats me like this." He groused, kicking the door to their room closed.

"I just had to bring you down a peg or two. You were getting too big for your britches- having some bearcat maul you seems to have gone straight to your head." Steve laughed but was holding a pillow up as a measure of defense against his incensed friend.

"I bare my soul to you and you go an' make fun of me. How is that fair?" Bucky grabbed the pillow and pulled it out of his grasp, tossing it over his shoulder. He shoved him playfully and watched as Steve toppled onto the bed. "Who needs enemies with friends like you."

"Aww c'mon Buck. I was just kidding around." Steven sat up on his elbows and watched as he moved about the room, getting into a clean pair of slacks and an old shirt that was more grey than white. He sat down beside his friend, his expression slightly shuttered. Bucky leaned in suddenly and brushed his lips against Steve's smiling mouth. "Buck… that's not a good idea. What if someone sees us? You know we can get in trouble--" He was cut off, unable to finish the sentence as Bucky's mouth opened enough to catch Steve's bottom lip between his teeth.

o0o

His eyes opened and he found himself staring at the cement ceiling of his prison cell. He was free from the restraints and could move. He wondered how long it had been since he had been put under. A few minutes? A few years?. He rolled onto his side and found himself face to face with Steve Rogers. The man was sitting in a steel framed chair, his elbows on his knees and his hands dangling between his legs. He was dressed in a black tee, grey jeans and heavy black boots. His hair was as it had always been, blond and cropped short at the sides. His jaw was freshly shaved. 

He was tossing a knife back and forth in his hands. The Winter Soldier realized it was the very knife that he had stabbed him with. The blade was clean and flickered in the light, the black handle was wrapped in the same worn rawhide leather it had always been wrapped in. He knew the feel of that blade, it was surprisingly heavy for its diminutive size but balanced wonderfully. He couldn't recall when he had gotten it or who had given it to him, but it had been important to him and had always remained with his kit throughout the years. 

He found himself shuffling on his knees towards the glass wall. He laid a hand on the cold, smooth surface. "Steve." 

Steve's head lifted, his eyes were narrow and frigid. His mouth was compressed into a tight line. "You aren't him." He growled and uncoiled his body from the chair like a striking snake. He took a sweeping step forward and in an impressive display of strength, rammed the knife's blade into the glass up to the hilt. The breach caused the alarms to go off and moments later, the room was filled with heavily armed guards all pointing weapons in the Winter Soldier's direction. Without explaining, Steve turned on his heel and stalked from the room. The guards took one look at the knife lodged in the thick glass and peered at Steve's retreating back. 

Something about the look that he had gotten from the man made him feel sad. He sat back on the pallet and watched as the guards filed out of the room. Soon after the room had emptied, Tony came in wearing his suit, the visor flipped up. He took in the knife and Bucky's prone form. He looked like he was trying to come up with something to say but just shook his head and walked out of the room, the doors slamming and locking in place.


End file.
